Short Story: The Plague Of D-Block

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Buckets of fertilizer and loam stood scattered about like pylons in a construction zone. Gardening tools leaned against the walls, trip hazards for the unwary. The dim light in D-Block, a result of windows placed sparsely and always outside the cells, compounded the problem and made navigating the cluttered hall even more challenging. Bruce stepped over bags of wood pulp, careful to minimize the noise he was making, and his boot came down on something squishy. He pulled back, nearly losing his balance, and plopped his sole a hair to the left. He squinted downward at a dead rat, caught with its skull crushed in a spring trap, still clutching a nugget of moldy cheese in one tiny paw. Researchers had long ago concluded the plague was not transmissible
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